


don’t know if I could ever go without

by radiodurans



Category: Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/F, Harry Is A Cis Woman In His Dream, Watermelon Sugar Inspired, lesbian orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: Harry dreams about the Watermelon Sugar shoot becoming a real lesbian orgy.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 15





	don’t know if I could ever go without

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I wrote two of these, no I’m not sorry. This was originally a $1 and up story on patreon. Thanks to sulkingroom, yellowflares, and an anonymous donor for funding me on patreon.
> 
> Please do not send Mx. Harry Styles this fic. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental yadda yadda etc. I make no claims about Harry Styles' actual sexuality or gender within this story. Think of it as a roman a clef with the real names still tacked on.

_LESBIAN CONTENT??? #blessed_

_Harry said dyke rights!_

_OMG I love it – those GIRLS! that big BITE._

_Harry said Watermelon Sugar is for the lesbians._

_Lesbian icon Harry Styles @ it again!!!_

Harry doesn’t always stalk his social after the release of a music video – _Falling_ , in particular, was very drop-and-run due to the _ambiguous clothes_ of it all– but he has nothing else to _do_ in quarantine and _fuck_ , he misses interacting with his fans. But there they are – message after message after message of love and support. He smiles as he flicks through the ones that mention lesbian allyship. They’re right, and they should say it. 

Eventually, flipping through social makes him hot and achy the way overly-passionate screen time always does. He decides to settle in for a power nap on the couch to rest his thumbs and his mind. Jeff will probably call him a lazy bum for it later but – who, exactly, is getting one million Instagram likes an hour, Jeffrey? The un-clever comeback makes him smile as he closes his eyes.

-

He finds himself on that same Malibu beach when he sinks into his dream. Harry’s just off to the side of the set, watching the girls lounge around on each other in preparation for another shot. It’s a little chilly due to it being February, so he folds his arms around himself for warmth. To his own surprise, his chest is soft and squishy rather than firm and thick. There’s no itchy stubble on his face either and between his legs – 

Harry discreetly moves his body side to side and finds nothing hanging between his thighs. 

(Between _her_ thighs.)

One of the directors, Bradley, touches her shoulder gently. His hand feels much bigger than she remembers on her shoulder.

“Are you ready to go again?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Harry with a nod. Her voice resonates at a smooth alto.

Harry takes her place in the middle of the pile of girls. They’re filming b-roll footage, she knows, because everyone has a piece of watermelon except for her. This is the scene where the other girls feed copious amounts of watermelon to her and to each other.

_Action!_

It feels different than it did the first time, as boy-Harry. Some of the girls are stronger than her, so she gets yanked back and forth as they shove the fruit in her mouth. Her nipples are hard from the cold and she’s gone braless, so all of the jostling makes them tingle under her shirt. Around her, many of the girls start kissing and touching each other much more obscenely than would ever be appropriate for YouTube. She barely has time to question this before some of the girls are kissing her, too – up her neck and on her lips and down, down to her stomach. Someone puts a finger inside her and licks her clit with a hot mouth. She’s going to cum like this –

-

“You lazy bum. Sleeping midday _again,_ ” says Jeff from above. Harry’s eyes snap open to greet his manager. He’s sweaty and hard and it’s all incriminating as hell but Jeff has never been one to ask questions about wet dreams. Thank _god._

 _Fuck,_ he was supposed to have a comeback for this. He roots around in his brain for anything that isn’t watermelon-themed eroticism.

“Can do what I want. Have more Instagram likes than you,” mumbles Harry, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. He closes his eyes again defiantly, hoping that the wonderful dream Jeff so _rudely_ interrupted will return when he falls back asleep.


End file.
